Mending Bridges
by svuxfanfic
Summary: "In the dim ray of moonlight that shined through the window, her beauty dawned on him like it was the first time he laid eyes on her, just like it did everyday. And he couldn't understand how he got so lucky. Despite their grief, he saw strength and resilience personified when he looked at her." Tuckson excerpts from various points in their relationship.
1. Manhattan Transfer

**AN: This story is going to be a compilation of random snapshots from various points throughout Tucker & Olivia's relationship. They may be out of order, going backward and forward in time to build a more complete picture of their gradual relationship. This first chapter takes place right after the events of Manhattan Transfer. Enjoy!**

* * *

Five missed calls lit up her screen by the time Olivia all but collapsed through the front door. The first notification was from Carisi. The next from Fin, who had undoubtedly received his piece from the rumor mill by now. The rest did not require checking to see who it was, but she couldn't bring herself to face any of them. She set the evidence boxes full of her personal belongings on the ground inside her door, resisting the urge to chuck them across the room. If it weren't for the presence of her toddler and his caretaker in the home, she might have shattered them already. In her pocket, she felt her phone buzz once more against her side. When she pulled out the device, she was almost relieved to see a black screen where it had shut off from the strain of activity. She wished she could do the same. After taking quick inventory of her appearance in the hall mirror, she decided that she could almost pass for someone who hadn't spent the entire walk home in tears. Lucy was on her feet when she entered the living room.

"Liv, hey, is everything okay? On the phone, you sounded-"

Olivia cut her off with a dismissive hand, a tight smile to conceal what was brewing behind her eyes. She couldn't talk about this now.

"I'm fine. It's a long story. Where's Noah?"

"He fell asleep about an hour ago. I think he wanted to stay up for you, but he couldn't fight it anymore."

"No that's," Olivia paused, her eyes wandering to a bottle of wine that poked out from under her coffee table, "That's okay. I'm pretty tired as well."

"You need me to stick around for a while?"

"No, Lucy, thank you. And thanks for staying late tonight - again."

"You know I don't mind," she smiled politely, gathering her belongings from the couch. Wary as she was, she seemed to get the hint that Olivia wanted to be alone. Liv made a mental note to give her a raise.

"Be sure to tell that gorgeous detective Carisi of yours hello for me," she winked at the lighthearted joke between them, but Olivia's heart was anything but light. Usually, the flirtation between Lucy and Carisi was nothing short of adorable, but now her request only served as a reminder that she wouldn't be seeing Carisi to relay the message. Not tomorrow. Not anytime soon.

"Sure."

"Hey," Lucy stopped as she reached the hallway, turning back to meet her boss's eyes, "You know... if you need me, I'm only a text away."

There was a genuine gleam in her eyes that told her the offer applied to much more than child care services. Olivia conceded with a nod.

"Goodnight, sweetie. Be safe."

Despite hearing the key turn in the door, Olivia doubled checked the locks and fastened the deadbolt before returning to the living room, immediately reaching for the alluring bottle of wine. She held it in her hands for a few moments, trying hard to ignore the twinge of something she refused to put a name to in her gut. Because screw that - she was a grown adult, and it wasn't like she had work in the morning to prevent her from getting smashed tonight. The thought crashed over her like it was the first time hearing it, just as it had every time since she left the precinct. She decided her typical bottle of red wouldn't be enough to numb that pain.

She dropped to her knees in front of the kitchen cabinet, the one under the sink where she kept the hard stuff out of sight and out of Noah's reach. She tugged at the baby safe lock once, twice, before it gave way with a satisfying click. Her hand knew exactly where to reach, and she felt a coldness wash over her as her fingers closed around the long neck bottle. It had taken her a while until she was able to stomach hard liquor again after she spent four days choking it down against her will, but once she crossed that bridge, it was all or nothing. The first burn of alcohol was always too addictive, too full of promise for fading images and silencing voices, to stop. She laid out the bottle and a glass on the countertop, hesitating as she heard a small stir coming over Noah's monitor. She tore herself away from the drink, bidding an unspoken promise to return.

She was relieved when she opened the door to find Noah perfectly at rest, his hands clutching to his favorite blanket. His lips were parted to form a perfectly round 'o' shape, his breathing soft and light. It was the picture of innocence. From the doorway, she ached to go to him, to envelop herself in the warm aura that seemed to radiate from him wherever he went, but something stopped her. It was a pang in her heart, like the cracking of a shell that contained the black waters that never stopped stirring within her. Depression, anxiety. In the recent months, the encasement that held these sleeping demons had been shaken, stirred, but it was tonight's events that acted as the final blow to the barrier, letting the flood run free. She could feel the darkness rising to the surface, prickly vines of familiarity that slithered from her pores, binding her limbs. Their thorns penetrated her skin in the form of sensory details - memories. And they injected her with venom, filling her bloodstream to capacity until the cold was all she could feel. Until it was emanating from her in waves.

And so she could not go to her son as she ached so badly to do, wrap him in her arms and hold him so close she could feel his heartbeat against hers, because the venom was poison to everyone she touched. She knew this much from her time with Brian. From the day she gained custody, she promised herself that she would shield Noah from the darkness, and though life had no qualms about accepting this challenge, she was going to fight to her last breath keeping her promise. Quietly, she closed the door and went for the only proven antidote that made the thorns retract back into hell.

Just as she suspected, the first swallow burned enough to make her crave another. And another. She had gone through a whole glass before she remembered to plug in her phone. It was probably for the best - she had a feeling she would need alcohol in her system to brave the inevitable conversations that awaited her.

She was right.

Ed Tucker:

8:05 p.m: _Let me know how everything goes with 1pp. I can swing by later if you're up for the company._

8:06 p.m: _Keep your chin up, Benson. Everything's going to be okay._

It was so inaccurate it hurt. She almost wanted to laugh at how catastrophically wrong he was. Mostly, she wanted to cry. She wanted to sink into the familiar hole that called her name from the bottom of a wine bottle, curl up, block out the world until she couldn't feel the pain. The loss. She flipped her phone facedown on the counter, gripping her glass so tightly in her fingers she thought it might shatter. Slowly, she brought the rim to her lips, sucking back the last of its contents. By now the burn had faded and she was left only with disappointment and an emptiness that mirrored the hole in her heart. _Seventeen years._ Seventeen years she had signed her life over to her unit - literally. She gave the NYPD everything she had, sacrificed her life, lost pieces of herself that she would never get back, and it only took and took and _took_. And then it tossed her aside like she was nothing.

Her hand hovered over the phone once more, tempted to pick it up and call him. Then she stopped. During her last rough patch, she had conditioned herself to think that she shouldn't rely on anyone for comfort. It started with the fall of her relationship with Brian. When she knew they were on the cusp of sinking, she started preparing her life vest, inflating the getaway raft. She forced herself to stop depending on his arms around her in order to sleep. She stopped counting on his calls when they became less and less frequent. She had played this game many times with him - her hand dancing back and forth over a phone, battling between the crushing loneliness and the fear of needing someone so badly that she couldn't clear the demons away without hearing his voice. And here she was again.

Lifting the glass once more, she drank until it was empty. Only then did she find the courage to pick up the phone. When she looked down at the screen, her vision was already blurring out of focus, but she finally found his name. She took a deep breath and hit the green button. It rang a few times, each passing second building up her anxiety, and when she heard his gruff voice on the other end, her heart skipped a beat.

"Hey. Did I wake you? Yeah, I'm... Can you come over? It's... bad. It's really bad."

* * *

The moment he opened the door, her arms were around him, her head buried in the shoulder of his t-shirt. She curled her fingers into his back, trying to keep her emotions in check. The alcohol wasn't doing her any favors.

"Hey," Tucker expelled in surprise, wasting no time reciprocating the embrace, "Hey, I'm right here. What's going on?"

"I'm out. They fired me." Her voice quivered, small and defeated like he had never heard. He stiffened. She could tell by his change in demeanor that he had not expected this turn of events. Ed Tucker had never known Olivia Benson outside of SVU. It was always a package deal - ingrained in her chemical makeup, woven through her veins. This was the Twilight Zone.

"They what?"

" _Transferred,"_ she clarified, her voice falling flat. When she pulled back, he could see the smudges of black mascara that rimmed her eyes. "That was the word they used to soften the blow. Either way, it means the same thing - I'm out."

He blinked at her, mouth agape. Shaking off the shock, he closed the door behind them and put his hand against the small of her back, ushering her further into the apartment.

"Barba? Was this him?" He felt his interrogative voice coming through, trying to make sense of this disorienting news.

"I don't know," Olivia shook her head, her eyes wide and unfocused. Clearly the shock hadn't worn off on her either. "1-p-p won't give up the whistle blower, you know that. I don't want to believe he would do that to me, especially without fair warning. I just… I feel like I've been ambushed here."

"I can't say I blame y- hey, easy," Tucker jutted out his arm just in time to catch her as she stumbled forward, "You okay?"

"Yeah," she steadied herself against his arm, cheeks noticeably flushing, "Just a little dizzy."

It was then that he noticed the slur in her words, the glaze in her eyes. A quick sweep of the apartment showed him the evidence of two empty bottles and a broken glass on the counter.

"What happened here?" He made his way to the bar, carefully brushing the shards into his palm.

"It slipped out of my hands."

"Maybe we should take it easy for tonight, yeah?" He suggested, depositing the pieces into the trash can. When she didn't respond right away, he glanced up at her from across the counter and saw that her demeanor had shifted. Suddenly she was rigid and still, her eyes welling up with the threat of tears. She bit her lip to stop the quivering, but he could spot the tension in the way her hands curled up at her sides.

"Liv?"

"Please don't say that." Her voice was so quiet, he almost couldn't make out the words. A wrinkle formed between his brows, but before he could question it further, she let out a humorless laugh.

"What?"

"I promised myself I wouldn't do this with you," she shook her head, talking more to herself than to him. She was spiraling.

"What exactly is it you're doing?" He rounded the counter that separated him from the living room.

"This," She made a haphazard gesture at herself, at her surroundings, "I'm not going to be the mess you clean up."

"Slow down. What are you-?"

"Don't tell me what to do," She snapped, jerking away from his outstretched hand. He immediately pulled back and blinked at her, surprised. The room swelled with silence between them, the scene of a standoff. She was too far gone to realize that it was concern, not accusation, in his eyes.

"See what I mean?" Her voice broke, the sound of her desolation haunting, "This is messy. _I'm messy._ Maybe it's best if you go."

The sudden hollowness in her eyes, like she was bracing herself for pain, cut straight through him. Did she really expect him to turn and walk away from her, just like that?

"That's not happening."

At this, she balked at him.

"Excuse me?"

"I'll go home tonight if you really want me to," he clarified, "But as far as walking away from this? You can't get rid of me that easily."

"You don't get it," she shook her head, "You really don't."

"Enlighten me," he took a careful step in her direction, "Please. Sit down. Talk to me."

She had no intention of listening to him, so it must have been out of instinct - or self preservation perhaps, as the room was now spinning - that she found herself sinking into the cushions. She took a shaky breath and rubbed her palms against her eyes, trying to pull herself from the strong current of darkness that carried her quickly downstream. Tucker sat beside her but hung back to give her space.

"I can't play this role again," she slurred, "The drunk. The _victim_. I dragged Brian through the fire once, and I can't do it to you."

He looked over to her through soft eyes.

"Cassidy was here because he wanted to be - trust me on that. He's a big boy, and so am I. Olivia, you aren't dragging me anywhere, and I wasn't accusing you of anything. I just think diving into a bottle isn't the greatest idea with everything that's happening."

"I'm not an alcoholic," she said.

"I know that."

"My mother was an alcoholic."

"I know."

"I'm not like her."

"I-"

"If you say _'I know'_ again…"

"I was going to say… I think you're a lot of things, Olivia. A lot of incredible things. But an alcoholic and a victim are not among them. You're allowed to have a bad night - especially right now."

"No. No, you shouldn't have to see me fall apart like this," she rebutted, "You could lose your job, too."

"Yeah, I could. Which means we're in this together. If you're a mess, then I'm a trainwreck."

Maybe it was the alcohol coming through, but she had to stifle a laugh. She looked over at him and he met her gaze with a small smirk. But the moment was fleeting as the gravity of their situation set in again, weighing down their smiles. The atmosphere seemed to melt around them as they kept their eyes locked, their expressions falling in sync.

"I can't believe this is happening," she said, "It feels like a bad dream."

Tucker swallowed hard, pushing back the waves of guilt and similar distress. He wanted to be strong for her, but he could feel his own emotions slipping.

"I know," he said. He picked up her hand and brought it to his lips, testing the waters. When she didn't pull away from the contact, he gave into his urge to comfort her - and to feel the comfort she gave - and pulled her into his side. "I know."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "About…Everything."

"It's okay. You're okay."

It felt like there was nothing left they could say. They were helpless in the face of this, both their worlds turned upside down in unison. The silence that flooded over them was heavy and full of dread, but even amidst the chaos, he found it within himself to feel gratitude that he had her by his side. He couldn't help but think she was the only reason he was staying afloat.

"It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, you know," he spoke up after a few minutes.

"What?"

"I'm not one to use the phrase _blessing in disguise_ , but maybe that's what this is. I'm not guilty here, so they're not going to find anything that will put me in prison. But if the optics are bad enough to keep me out of a leadership position at NYPD… Well, so be it."

"What are you saying?"

"Nothing," he rubbed his palm up and down her arm, "Just that I've given a lot of my heart and soul to IAB over the years," he looked down at her, at her weary head resting on his shoulder. Her eyelids fluttered closed, losing their battle to the exhaustion that weighed them down, and he was relieved. Sleep wouldn't solve their problems, but she needed it. In the dim ray of moonlight that shined through the window, her beauty dawned on him like it was the first time he laid eyes on her, just like it did everyday. And he couldn't believe how he got so lucky. Despite their grief, he saw strength and resilience personified when he looked at her, at everything she continued to overcome. Tragic, he thought, that she saw nothing more than a mess for him to clean up. Perhaps she truly didn't realize how much it was he that needed her.

"Maybe it's time I gave a little bit of it to someone else."


	2. Surrender

**AN: Back again. Like I mentioned in the original author's note, this story will be out of order. So for this one, we will travel back in time a bit. This one takes place somewhere in the gap between season 16 & 17\. (Post Surrendering Noah). Hope you like it!**

* * *

"Knock, knock."

She wasn't surprised when she looked up to find Lieutenant Tucker gracing the doorway of her office. Despite her squad's recent drop in existential crises, his visits to the sixteenth precinct had become more and more frequent. Relaying a message, giving a heads up, _"just checking in"_ —there was always some excuse that halfway sounded like he had conjured it up on the ride to the station. An influx in Tucker sightings wasn't something Olivia was unaccustomed to, seeing as how she always managed to find herself partnered up with a human IAB magnet. Only now, when he strode into her office, his presence carried an unfamiliar aura - one she couldn't quite put her finger on. All she knew was that she didn't hate it. Not at all.

"Tucker," she greeted him, pushing her glasses on top of her head, "What did I do now?"

"Benson," he nodded, closing the door behind him, "Chipper as always to see me."

Allowing a hint of a smile to crack her expression, she pushed back in her chair to settle into a more relaxed posture.

"Sixteen years of practice will do that to you," she quipped, "What can I do for you?"

"Just checking in," there it was, "You know, to see if you've given any more thought to that lieutenant's exam."

She didn't even bother to conceal the heavy sigh of annoyance, rolling her eyes to emphasize the point. Tucker raised his hands in defense.

"Hey, it's not me. The guys upstairs are starting to press in on this. They said SVU has been under too much fire the last few years to let this slide under the radar for long."

"Thanks," she remarked bitterly, "I don't need a reminder, believe me."

He offered a hint of what looked like sympathy before continuing.

"Speaking of…" He shifted his gaze, and if she hadn't known any better, she might have thought he was nervous, " How are things going around here since... Everything?"

A small ping of sadness dripped into the pit of her stomach as she remembered her last goodbye with Nick, seeing him off to the airport with a bittersweet hug. All glistening eyes and choked up voices, it wasn't the type of emotional exchange she was used to. But that was kind of the point. Sad as she was to see him go, he had at least given her the goodbye that she had been denied in the past. The goodbye she deserved. Even so, his absence could be felt in the heavy air of the squad room, his loss cutting deep into the morale of the team as they struggled to find new footing.

"It's tough, but we're surviving," she allowed, dropping her gaze to the grainy wood of her desk, "It's kind of what we do around here."

When she met his eyes again, he returned the smile but winced a bit at the subtle implication. Ever since the disaster with her abduction that had shaken SVU two years prior, there had been a certain thickness that occupied the room between Tucker and her. A sense of _knowing_ that could never really be reversed _._ Snaking its way in between all the pre-established animosity, there was now this new strand of untouched territory in Tucker and Olivia's relationship. There were certain things he couldn't unsee. Like words on a page, spelling out the candid details of four days worth of dehumanizing torture. Or two pools of brown that, for the first time in 15 years, had been robbed of their sparkling fight. In all their years of feuding, Edward Tucker never would have expected his heart to ache so heavily at the sight of a battered and broken Olivia Benson. He never would have expected her untamed ferocity to be something he missed until he watched it disappear in her eyes. Somewhere along the line, he found his sympathy had morphed into respect. Watching her conquer hell and continue to climb the ranks had planted an undeniable admiration in him. Their dynamic had shifted irreversibly, and part of him suspected that it didn't stop at "respect." They'd been out for a drinks a couple of times in the recent months, though many of those instances were initiated by work - much to his disappointment. It was all pretty unclear and fervently unspoken, what was going on between them, but it was definitely something new.

Olivia caught his brief moment of hesitation, clearing her throat to fill the silence that had spilled into the room.

"So, uh," she shifted, "Besides the relentless harassment about an exam I never offered to take, was there anything else you needed?"

He rolled his eyes, grateful for the tension release.

"Not today," he remarked slyly, backing toward the door, "But knowing your people's track record…"

"Goodbye, Tucker."

Laughing, he turned to leave, but froze mid step as his hand hit the knob. He seemed to hesitate for a moment before spinning back around on his heel. There was that look of uncharacteristic nervousness again.

"Actually," he cleared his throat, "There was this one other thing. I wasn't going to bring it up, but-"

Olivia couldn't help but automatically assume the worst.

"Oh, God," she closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose, "Which one of them was it this time? Let me guess. Carisi? Amanda? I swear, I should just start having the suspension paperwork mass produced and delivered to my office by the truckload."

"No," he replied, barely concealing his smirk, "Though I'm inspired by your vote of confidence."

She breathed a sarcastic chuckle, running a hand through her hair. He noted how nice it was to see a smile grace her expression.

"No, uh, it's nothing IAB worthy. It's..." he straightened up, trying to assert semblance of authority because, dammit, he was a veteran officer who had stared down some of the worst criminal offenders this country had to offer, so surely he shouldn't be floundering like a high school freshman about to ask the cheerleader to the prom, "It's about the Lieutenants dinner next Saturday. It's this formal shindig they throw once a year for all the boroughs, and… well, the company isn't great, but the food's pretty decent, and I'm required to go, so…"

Olivia blinked up at him, her mouth slightly agape.

"And… you're asking me to go with you?" she supplied, not missing the slight twinge of relief that passed over his face.

"Well, you know," he shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets, "Since you're going to be kicking it with the big dogs pretty soon - provided you suck it up and take the damn test already - I figured it would be a nice head start."

Well, this was unexpected. She blinked again, almost failing to comprehend what was happening. Lieutenant Tucker, dark lord of IAB and all things problematic for as long as she had known him, was asking her on a date. Ish. The Olivia Benson of a few short years ago was either mortified or laughing in hysterics. She couldn't even _imagine_ Elliot's reaction if he were there to see it. Or Nick's. The thought alone was admittedly entertaining, and almost enough reason in itself to accept the offer.

"I, ah," she stumbled over her words, hoping that the shock wasn't as apparent on her face as it felt, "Yeah. Sure."

"Great," he nodded, "So I'll have the car swing by around 7?"

"Sending a car?" She asked, almost mockingly.

Tucker smirked, shrugging it off like it was no big deal before turning toward the door once again.

"Welcome to the high life, Benson."

* * *

The wind began to pick up outside the banquet hall, catching wisps of her black dress around her legs. The lacey material that covered her chest and shoulders did little to combat the nighttime chill that fell over the city, and Olivia tugged at her sweater as colleagues and higher ups passed her by. Most of them sported a wife on their arm, some with women that had to be at least half their age, wearing dresses more form fitting than some bandaids Olivia owned. She was out of her comfort zone - what she wouldn't give to be back in her black denim and leather jacket, gun and badge on her hip. With every couple that walked into the building, she grew more and more conscious of the small voice echoing in her head: _What are you doing here?_ A glance at her watch told her she had ten minutes until the event started, yet Tucker was nowhere to be found. He had let her know by phone that he was stuck at the office for an emergency, but that he would meet her at the hall with plenty of time to spare. Of course, she understood that more than anyone else. Unfortunately, it also meant that he was giving her too much time to think. To reconsider. To run. _Seriously, what are you doing?_

She had been out with Tucker a few times now, for drinks and mostly-work-related conversation, but these casual instances were not enough for her to get a grip on the situation. Whatever this thing was between them, it was unexpected and only beginning to unfold. And it was not yet sturdy enough to relieve the dissonance she felt. There was a list of things she couldn't ignore - the mental list of "pros" - like the way her heart now skipped instead of sinking when Tucker walked into a room or the way he let his gaze linger on her for a moment too long before he had to leave. On the other hand, there was the arguably longer list of "cons." The history. The bad blood. The actual, physical file full of a decade and a half worth of grievances. The flirtation was undeniable, the sudden chemistry was palpable, but it wasn't bulletproof. It left her in a tough spot with a lot to consider, but that's just it - she was willing to consider.

"Olivia," Tucker's voice approached from behind, pulling her from her thoughts. She spun around to greet him, ignoring the jolt in her pulse.

"Hey, sorry I'm…" He stopped short when she turned to him, his lips parting at the full sight of her. He swallowed hard.

"Late."

Olivia felt warmth creeping into her cheeks, but not without a smirk to accompany it. She couldn't ignore the way she enjoyed making him react.

"You look beautiful, Lieutenant," he commented, allowing his eyes to fall briefly to her dress.

"It's not lieutenant yet," she warned, but his mouth turned up at the corner.

"You said _yet._ That means there's hope."

"Come on," she rolled her eyes, putting on her best sarcastic enthusiasm, "We don't want to miss the commissioner's opening speech."

She swore his whole face lit up when she hooked her arm through his.

"God forbid."

* * *

"I promise I won't keep you long. I know you're all anxious to get to the open bar," Deputy Commissioner Abraham joked from behind the podium, eliciting a murmur of laughter from the crowd of blue suits.

"It's been a good year so far for the NYPD. Crime stats are low this quarter, and we've managed to keep the newsworthy personal scandals to a minimum," he paused for laughter again, "If we could keep up this particular pattern for the next year, it would make my life a lot easier. I'm sure IAB would appreciate the break, too."

Next to her, Tucker brushed off the comment with a smirk as every eye in the surrounding area turned to him. Olivia's heart jumped at the sudden awareness of their publicity. It had occurred to her prior to the date that people might give a few lingering glances, but the thought felt a lot heavier under the weight of their colleague's spotlight. She faked a smile for the crowd. Tucker must have sensed her unease, because once the attention began to stray back to Abraham's speech, a rough hand covered hers under the table. The gesture was well concealed from the crowd, his thumb rubbing over the back of her hand, and she blinked in surprise. Though startled, she felt the tension melt away at the gentleness of his touch. When she looked over at him, he was smiling back.

"But tonight is about celebration, and honoring the work that you all do for this city," Olivia tuned back into the tail end of Hank's speech, "So the dance floor is open, dinner is served, and drinks are on the NYPD. Enjoy your night out - I know you don't get a lot of them."

The crowd met the end of his speech with applause and cheering, followed by the scraping of chairs as party goers began to mingle. Tucker had finally let go of Olivia's hand.

"You hungry?" He asked.

"A little. I could go for a drink, though."

"Me, too," he concurred, "What would you like? I can get it for you."

As he stood up from the chair, Olivia took a nervous sweep of their table, noting that most of the couples around them were colleagues of Tucker's.

"You know what? I'll come with you," she pushed up from her chair beside him. He shot her a curious look as they crossed the dance floor, headed for the bar.

"You okay?" He asked.

"Yeah," she answered a little too quickly, "I just…"

"Didn't want to answer any prying questions?" He supplied. The smile she returned was almost apologetic.

"Yes, that."

"You ashamed to be seen with me, Benson?" His tone was light, but his voice betrayed just the slightest hint of insecurity.

"That's not the case. I wouldn't have agreed to come if I didn't want to be here," she assured, "I'm just wading through some mixed feelings about… this. And I'd rather not do it in front of a crowd."

"No, I get it," he nodded as they approached the bar, filling two empty stools in the middle. He paused to acknowledge the bartender, "I'll take a bourbon."

"A glass of merlot."

As the bartender turned to prepare their drinks, he focused his attention back to her.

"I don't blame you, you know."

She raised her eyebrows.

"That's a first, coming from your mouth."

"Funny," he deadpanned, "But seriously, I get your apprehension. There's no pressure here."

"That's good to know," she took a long sip of her wine when the bartender set it down, cringing a bit at the cheap taste. Figures, NYPD wouldn't splurge on the good stuff.

"But I like you, Olivia. A lot. And I want you to know, explicitly, that I want to explore this - whatever this is. My cards are on the table."

It was by miracle alone that she didn't spit her mouthful of wine across the bar at his declaration. Obviously she had known this, or some hint of this, for a while. But it was the brazen honesty that knocked her off her feet.

"Noted," she managed, playing off her shock, "But what if I don't like to mix business with pleasure? It hasn't worked out well for me in the past."

He could have chosen then to ask about her past, to play the sympathetic listener, the shoulder to cry on. But her face, and his history with her, told him that was the last thing she wanted. Instead, he opted for what he really wanted to do. He scooted closer to her on his barstool, reigning their conversation in to a more intimate level that the crowd around them couldn't penetrate. He placed a hand on her waist and leaned in so close that she could almost feel his whisper against her ear

"Are you saying you consider me pleasurable?"

A wave of heat seemed to emanate from the spot where his hand touched her dress, spreading through her body like a wildfire. She swallowed hard, trying to suppress the sudden and startling urge to close the distance between their lips.

"Ed Tucker!" A loud voice from beside them sent them both reeling, snapping apart like two teenagers caught under the bleachers. She crossed her arms over her chest while he shoved his hands into his pockets, doing their best attempt at casual. Recognition flashed in Tucker's eyes as he registered the man's greeting, extending one arm out for a handshake.

"Harvey Wallace," he nodded curtly, "Good to see you again."

But Wallace bypassed his professional gesture, moving in for the bear hug, his drink in hand teetering precariously over Tucker's shoulder. Olivia raised her eyebrows at the drunken exchange.

"What's it been - 5 years now since that UC stint?" He slurred, pulling back from the hug with a strong slap to the shoulder. She detected a slight cringe of annoyance in Tucker's eyes.

"Something like that."

"And who's this?" The man shifted his attention toward Olivia, taking her in with a once over that made her stomach twist, "You finally get yourself a new old lady, Eddie?"

She wondered if the step Tucker took closer to her was intentional. She suspected it was.

"No. This is Sergeant Olivia Benson from Manhattan special victims," he said tightly, then lightened his tone when he turned to her and winked, "And soon to be Lieutenant."

But Harvey paid no attention to their private exchange, instead staring intently at Olivia, as if trying to reconcile something in his mind.

"I know you from somewhere," he pointed to her, his finger nearly brushing her nose. She pulled back.

"Ah, no, I don't believe we've met," she replied, trying to keep a polite facade, though her annoyance was surely seeping through.

"No, I'm sure of it," he insisted, studying her with an uncomfortable amount of scrutiny, "I couldn't forget those beautiful brown eyes of yours."

Beside her, Tucker stiffened, but Olivia barely registered his shift in demeanor over the pounding of blood in her ears. Her body felt hot all over.

"Wait!" He stopped, his eyes growing wide, "I know where I've seen you. Manhattan sex crimes - you're that detective who got kidnapped last year! Your face was all over the news."

Olivia thought she was going to throw up. She wanted to say something to diffuse the situation, and what she really wanted to do was deck this guy in the face, but she was frozen.

"Alright, that's enough," Tucker practically growled, leaning in toward Wallace. The intoxicated man stumbled back a few steps, raising his hands in surrender, spilling a stream of beer down his shirt in the process.

"Relax, Eddie," he laughed, then turned back to Olivia, "Always so uptight, this one."

"The only thing that's going to be uptight is my shoe in your ass if you don't walk away right now," Tucker threatened, finally breaking through Olivia's trance. She gaped at him.

"Lay off the sauce," he continued, "And go home to your wife, Wallace. Unless she finally wised up and left you."

Wallace's face screwed into an ugly scowl at the comment, stumbling back even further.

"Screw you, Tucker," he spat, winking at Olivia before he left, "Give me a call when you're bored with this one, sweetheart. It won't take long."

They watched in silent anger as the man staggered away, disappearing into the crowd.

"I could have handled myself," Olivia spoke up bitterly, though her frustration was aimed more at herself than him.

"I know you could have," he said seriously, "I saved you the trouble. Besides, you're still playing the political game with this bump in leadership. I have enough seniority where I could probably get away a couple of stray fists over bourbon."

"You weren't going to hit him."

He cocked his head.

"Don't be so sure. He's had it coming for a long time, trust me."

She almost argued, but she figured he was probably right.

"You okay?" He asked seriously, lowering his voice to evade the people around them.

"Yeah," she said, but he didn't miss the slight quiver in her voice, "Yeah, I- I think I'm going to head home, though."

"I'll walk you," he offered immediately.

"No, that's alright. They haven't even served dinner yet. You should stay."

He shrugged.

"I think I've stayed long enough to make my appearance known."

"Tucker-"

"Olivia, I came here to spend the evening with _you_."

This silenced her. He smiled.

"Let me walk you home?"

She smiled back.

"Okay."

* * *

"I'm sorry about what happened tonight," Tucker cracked the tension as they approached her block. Olivia had remained silent most of the way, thoroughly embarrassed by the events that brought their night crashing down. "You didn't deserve that."

"It happens," she said. Her cryptic tone made his heart sink, implying that tonight's encounter was something she had become used to.

"It shouldn't."

"I know."

A few beats passed. The breeze that passed over them sent a chill down Olivia's spine. She pulled Ed's suit jacket, which he had loaned her earlier in the walk, tighter around her shoulders.

"Can I be candid with you?" Tucker asked.

"Why stop now?"

He chuckled nervously.

"We have a, uh… A history," he said.

 _No kidding,_ she thought.

"I know I have a long way to go before I can earn your trust," he continued, "But I intend to do just that, if you'll have me."

"Tucker…"

"I'm not saying you have to decide now," he clarified as they slowed to a stop in front of her building. "I'm asking you to think about it. I'm not going to push you, I promise. But I'm going to show you I'm serious about this."

Her eyes danced over his face, still unable to believe the surreality of this development.

"Okay," she said.

"Okay?"

"I'm…" She let her eyes wander, "I'm not saying no."

His breath of relief was unabashed, and she almost laughed at his open display of vulnerability.

"I can work with that," he said.

Just as she looked like she was heading for a goodnight, Tucker mustered all the courage he could and channeled it into a brave voice.

"Would it be brazen of me to ask for a kiss goodnight?"

She blinked.

"Yes."

He nodded, folding his hands in front of him.

"I understand."

But before he could process the rejection, her hand slipped into his, her body drawing close.

"It would be brazen," she said, "But like I said… I'm not saying no."


	3. Townhouse Incident

**AN: As you can probably assume from the title, this one takes place after the events of Townhouse Incident. This particular excerpt takes place a few hours after the episode ends. That should be about all you need to know. I wrestled with this one for a while, so hopefully you find it worthy of a read and not completely terrible ;)**

* * *

It felt like the hardest thing he'd ever had to do - to walk away from Olivia Benson as she sat perched on a hospital bed, drenched in lingering adrenaline and sporting bruises that didn't even begin to cover the extent of the day's damage. After grueling hours of listening to her voice over a phone, townhouse walls and the threat of gunfire barricaded between them, the urge to keep her close was overwhelming. There was an almost physical pain to leaving her there. Her squad had stayed with her, but that brought him minimal relief. After all, it was their presence that forced him out in the first place. With Olivia having not yet expressed that she was ready to go public with their relationship, Tucker was not about to push the subject in the middle of this nightmare. He knew his sudden attentiveness would raise questions from her colleagues if he stuck around - more than what had already been raised from today's events. So against every instinct in his body - for her - he walked away.

"Hang in there," he had whispered before he left, hesitantly releasing his grip on her hand, "I'll see you soon, alright?"

When she looked back at him through wide, frightened eyes, the ropes she had already lassoed around his heart pulled tighter. He wanted to kiss her then, aching to feel the familiarity of her lips against his and channel every bit of safety and comfort he could into the gesture. But he stopped himself. Having just pulled her from the wreckage, he hadn't had a chance to fully asses the situation. To talk to her alone. The nauseating translation: he had no way of knowing what all happened to her in that house. He quieted the discord in his mind by settling for a cautious kiss on her temple, but his stomach twisted when she flinched. He pulled away just in time for Carisi and Fin to round the corner.

Every minute between then and now, as he took her apartment step two at a time, had moved with the velocity of a slug, dragging out until he was sure he would live a thousand lives before he could see her again. His mind raced with worry, eager to talk to her, hold her, just _be_ with her in private. The state in which he left her, jumpy and spaced out, did nothing to help his concern. His mind replayed her startled flinch on a loop, haunting him with reminders of how shaken she was. Even now, the short hallway that stretched between his feet and her door felt entirely too long, like he wanted to take it at a dead sprint so he could get to her sooner. When he finally arrived, his stomach did a somersault. Thoughtlessly, he reached for the spare key she had given him one night to relieve Lucy on an emergency, but he stopped himself, deciding to knock instead. It occurred to him that she was probably feeling very out of control, and the last thing she needed was anyone barging into her space, whether he texted her beforehand or not. After a few moments of waiting, he got antsy. Just as he raised a hand to knock again, the door swung open and he blinked in surprise.

"Tucker?" Fin greeted him with narrowed eyes, "What are you doing here?"

 _I could ask you the same thing._ This wasn't part of the plan. Suddenly grateful for the years of undercover work that fine tuned his improv skills, he switched directions.

"Detective," he greeted him evenly, "I, uh. Is Lieutenant Benson in?"

"Yeah," he quipped sharply, "She kind of lives here."

"Right," he blinked. So much for decent improv.

"Don't tell me IAB is hounding her about this already," Fin asserted his hand against the doorway, a protective gesture, "Her hands are clean. You were there. And she already gave her statement at the hospital."

"Of course," Tucker agreed, unable to help himself from peeking over Fin's shoulder, disappointed when he didn't spot her in the living room, "I was just stopping by to see how she was doing."

Fin narrowed his eyes again, scanning over his face for signs of ulterior motives. Blatant skepticism.

"About as good as expected, considering," he said, careful not to give too much away. His words only spiked Tucker's desire to burst through the doorway, but he had to keep the same composure he had at the hospital. No matter how much it killed him.

"I figured as much," he forced a resigned tone, "Well, let her know I stopped by. And, uh, if she needs anything... Yeah. Tell her I stopped by."

He turned to leave, a deep burn growing in the pit of his stomach at the prospect of putting more distance between them, but before he could go far, Fin stopped him.

"This isn't a professional visit, is it?" He said, eyeing the captain from behind. Tucker froze. He pivoted back around and met his eyes evenly. He didn't want to expose their relationship without Olivia's explicit say so, but he realized then that he didn't have to. This wasn't Fin's first suspicion. This was confirmation.

Fin seemed to chew over something in his mind, giving Tucker a final appraisal before the resolve broke in his eyes.

"Stay right here," He ordered begrudgingly, "If she says she wants you here, you can come in."

Tucker breathed a heavy sigh of relief, but the door clicked shut on him before he could say anything. The next minute passed slowly as he studied the chipping paint around her doorknob, anxiously awaiting the jury's verdict. When Fin finally returned, he said nothing, only opened the door and stepped back to allow him entrance. Tucker's heart soared. He led her to Olivia's bedroom - as if he needed a tour guide at this point - hovering like the secret service. Before he could enter, Fin turned to him in warning, uncharacteristic of their typical dynamic.

"You're here because _she_ says you can be," he spoke in a low voice, "I don't know the details, and I don't wanna. All I know is that I trust Liv's judgement, and if having you here right now makes her happy… For whatever reason... I won't stand in the way."

Tucker opened his mouth to respond before Fin cut him off.

"But, it doesn't mean I like it."

He settled for a nod. If it were anybody else, the territorial vibe would have ruffled his feathers, but these were Olivia's people. Her family. Fin was being protective of her, and he understood. He was glad for it. Not only did he understand her squad's instinct to form rank around her, but he had been preparing himself for this reaction for a while, waiting for the time when their relationship eventually became public. For her, he would do whatever it took to earn the respect of her squad. For her, he would do anything.

"Fin, it's okay," Olivia's voice chimed through the crack in the door. Tucker's pulse jolted at the sound of her voice, at the reminder that he was finally within touching distance of her. Fin pushed the door open the rest of the way, revealing the scene of Olivia curled on her side, facing away from the two men. Her hair was wet, soaking the shoulders of her large tee shirt with water.

"You want me to stick around?" Fin asked, eyeing Tucker suspiciously.

"I'm fine," she barely turned her head in their direction when she spoke, showing only a glimpse of the deep purple that swirled around her eye. Even the brief sight made Tucker's stomach churn. His fingers curled into fists at his side.

"Call if you need anything," Fin bid her goodbye, lingering in the doorway long enough to give Tucker one final warning glance, "You did good today, Liv."

Tucker waited until he heard the apartment door click shut, signaling that they were finally alone. Despite the hours he had spent waiting for this very moment, he felt suddenly unsteady now that he held it in his hands. He studied his girlfriend from behind, watching the curve of her side rise and fall with each breath beneath the grey fabric, desperately scavenging his mind for words to say. This was new territory for him. While he and Olivia had scraped the surface of discussing her traumatic history, that was all it had been - a scrape. Which was fine with him. If she wanted to share, he was more than willing to listen, but he would never push the subject. He knew the basics of what had happened to her because of his unique position as IAB commander, and even the black and white words, the inhuman horrors reduced to clinical terminology in a police file, had been more than enough for him. To be honest, most of the dialogue about Lewis had taken place between Lt. Tucker and Sergeant Benson, the cops. They had yet to brave the territory as a couple, in the trenches where the real grit resided and memories and nightmares existed in terrifying color. From the moment he got the call about the hostage situation this afternoon, Tucker suspected that they were about to be propelled into this unmarked land. And here they were.

"Hi," he managed, keeping his distance. She took a long pause, summoning enough energy for a hoarse whisper.

"Hi," She replied without looking at him. Tucker shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Do you want me to leave?" He asked.

"No."

 _Thank God._ He took a hesitant step closer to the bed.

"Is it okay if I join you?"

This time she hesitated, the change in her breathing ever so perceptible. Before he could retract, he saw the slight shake of her head. Grateful for the allowance to be nearer to her, he kicked off his shoes and climbed onto the bed, curling up behind her. Not close enough to touch, but her warmth and the familiar scent of her shampoo were enough to calm his weary heart. She was safe. Alive. But it was heaven and hell being close to her again, able to feel her presence but sensing that she was a million miles away.

"Do you want to talk about today?" He invited softly after a few minutes.

Her silence was telling. He heard her breathing catch in her throat and backed off.

"It's okay. We don't have to. Whatever you want. I'm just glad to be here."

She hesitated for a moment, her posture relaxing a bit.

"I'm glad you're here, too," she surprised him. Her voice was warm when she said it, a stark contrast against the hollow eyes and fragmented headspace that had taken over today. It gave him hope.

"Where's Noah?" he asked, consciously fighting the urge to reach for her.

"He's with Lucy," the twinge of guilt in her voice caught him off guard, "She and Carisi took him to the park for a few hours."

"Oh. That's good."

"It's not that I…" she spoke up again, needlessly defensive, "I saw him for a little bit. I held him. I wanted to. I just- I didn't want him to see me like this."

"Hey," he dared to place a gentle hand on her arm, relieved when she didn't flinch away, "You don't have anything to explain. You needed some time to rest, there's nothing wrong with that."

She paused for a moment, clearly unconvinced but not willing to argue.

"Yeah. Right."

"I know I said we don't have to talk about it, but we can, you know. If you want."

"I don't want to," she cut him off softly, "Please. We can talk, just not about that."

He opened his mouth, then closed it, reconsidering the subject matter he was about to approach. It certainly had its risks given the events of Olivia's day. But it was their current situation that might make it the perfect time to say what should have been said long ago. The thought had ignited earlier in the day, the first time he heard her terrified voice across the telephone. He couldn't be sure why it struck him so suddenly in that moment, but he knew the guilt was strong and only growing by the second. He had to clear the air.

"There isactually something I've wanted to say for a while," he confessed, gravity apparent in his words, "Long before _we_ happened. And I knew you wouldn't have it because you made it clear that in order for this to work, we had to let the past live in the past - and I agree. But this has weighed on me since the day the words left my mouth, and you deserve an apology."

"O...kay, you're scaring me a little," she said, "Spit it out."

"The case of Clyde Vandyne…" he began, "I assume you remember?"

Out of his view, she raised an eyebrow. He had her attention.

"You made it kind of hard not to."

"Yeah, I…" He scratched his head, letting out a nervous chuckle, "I know."

"So what about it?" she asked.

He grew suddenly quiet and his silence was enough to make her turn on her back to face him. The sight of her only made his heart grow heavier. When she looked up at him, he cast his eyes away, ashamed.

"I said some things to you," he lowered his voice to a soft rumble, "Some things that I regret with every fiber of my being, even more so now that I'm beginning to know you the way I am."

She returned the silence this time, reverent to the change in atmosphere. He was clearly looking to repent, and she was ready to listen.

"Do you remember the first time I questioned you, after the DNA identified you as the primary suspect?"

Nodding, she shuddered at the memory. Of course she remembered.

"And… I asked you about having PTSD," he let the words roll off his tongue, the weight behind them heavy from years of buildup, "I more than asked you about it - I interrogated you about it. I grilled you on it, exploited it, and… I crossed a line."

Now it was Olivia's turn to look away. She focused her eyes on the cotton threading of the sheets, remembering the way his words had cut her like glass that day almost six years ago, digging up the parts of her recent past she had finally begun to bury. The worst part had been that if his theory about Clyde's murder wasn't so completely false, it could have been true. Her post traumatic stress had been pretty bad back then, having gone so long without seeking help, so there was no guarantee that she wouldn't have, in fact, killed a massive biker if he attacked her in a dark alley and triggered a flashback. Even back then she had acknowledged this. She figured it would be best for now to leave out the part where she cried about it later that day in the holding cell, plagued by reminders in the form of steel bars and handcuffs. He felt bad enough as it was.

"I guess I was so used to seeing you as this... unbreakable rogue cop with a dirty partner-"

"Hey-"

"I know. I know," he raised a hand in defense, "I'm not saying it was true, but that was how I saw it. I forgot to consider that before you were the enemy, you were human."

"I was guilty of that, too," she admitted.

"That was the way of things for years," he said, "Our spikes prickled up at the sight of each other. Always poised for a fight. I got so used to the banter that I didn't even register the words coming out of my mouth until I said them sometimes, and then it was too late."

He scraped a palm over his mouth, eyes distant as he seemed to remember something else.

"Which brings me to my second apology," he took a deep breath, "I said something else to you a few years back, when I came to you for help in busting those cops from the twelfth. You probably don't even remember..."

Instantly, her demeanor changed, eyes cast down. She barreled over him like a steamroller as she quoted him verbatim.

" _She's a possible rape victim_ ," she recited flatly, " _I thought you might be sensitive to that_."

Tucker was speechless. Devastated.

"You remember."

"I remember," she echoed.

If he was apologetic before, her reveal had sent him charging full speed across the border into self loathing.

"I'll never forget the way your eyes changed when I said it," he whispered, "Like you couldn't believe that even I would stoop that low. I couldn't believe it either. I'm so sorry, Olivia."

"It's…" She didn't want to say _fine_ , because it hadn't been, "It's in the past. I know you would never dream of saying those things now. As far as the first part goes, in your defense, you did have a pretty strong case against me for murder."

"It doesn't matter," he argued, "You had post traumatic stress, and I used that against you. To this day, I don't even know what it was from-"

He felt her stiffen beside him, her eyes retreating from his gaze. Cautiously, he reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers on the mattress between them.

"I'm not saying you have to tell me," he spoke softly, giving a reassuring squeeze, "I'm just saying it was wrong either way. All of it. And I've been sorry about it long before we became… this."

He wasn't expecting her immediate grace - God knows he hadn't forgiven himself. He would have settled for any sign that she didn't hate him. That's why he was taken aback when she whispered the three words that nearly shattered him right there.

"I forgive you."

In that moment, he was overcome with such gratitude for the woman beside him. He brought their joined hands to his lips and let his eyes fall shut, placing a kiss on her knuckles. When he pulled away, he studied her intently, taking in her battle worn eyes.

"I'm telling you all this now because you need to know that as far as everything today goes… You are allowed to react with me," he promised, "You're allowed to feel this, and I'm not going to look down on you or question it. You've been through a lot. More than most. And I'm here for you."

"I'm -"

"And you don't have to be _fine."_

She bit down on her bottom lip. When she met his eyes again, there was moisture among the weariness he found there.

"That's good to know," her voice broke off, "Because I'm not. Not right now."

The lines in his face deepened to etch the picture of his sorrow.

"But I will be."

Her words were unexpected, as was the optimism that dared to poke through in her tone. But he saw it in her eyes - that will to survive. The Olivia Benson resilience that tethered his heart to her in the first place. And it amazed him that even in a time such as this, when she was well within her rights to break down completely, it was her words that carried the flame to ignite him with hope. Enough to crack a smile in the midst of the storm.

"Well, I could have told you that."


	4. Intersecting Lives

**AN: Back again after a ridiculous update gap, this time with a chapter that takes place during the events of Intersecting Lives. You know, the episode that was basically an open minefield of "Undercover" references that were never utilized. So this chapter is my attempt at rectifying such missed opportunities. Warnings for dark subject matter.**

* * *

She needed a drink.

That was all she could think as she took her apartment steps two at a time. In all actuality, she's needed a drink since the moment she picked up her phone that afternoon and heard Fin's voice, cautious and heavy with the promise of danger on the other had been both hesitant and urgent in bringing this case to her, and as it turned out, he was right to be. Her brain had sort of shut down after processing the words " _raped" and "corrections officer,"_ floating back to a dark time where orange jumpsuits erased her humanity and cold basements became the place her soul went to die. It'd been years since that particular nightmare staked claim in the forefront of her mind, but with one short phone call, it all came rushing back. If the last few years of her life had taught her anything at all, it was that moving forward required a steadfast commitment and a relentless energy, but all it took to fall back was one short misstep. What took years to accomplish could come unraveled in the blink of an eye.

Yeah. She really needed a drink.

But she wouldn't be be drinking tonight. She promised Ed she would work on healthier coping mechanisms, saving alcohol exclusively for the lighter occasions, and she had a feeling she wouldn't be able to pull off any facade of lightness tonight. That didn't stop the slow burn of the craving that built in her throat, desperate for a taste to take the edge off, and it soon became a battle of the two loudest voices in her head: Would she rather risk disappointing one of the only people in her life worth making a promise to, or chance getting swept away by the demons that would surely rise to the surface if not drowned in red wine?

It must have been the first voice that chastised her the loudest, because the impending shame was enough to pull her past the liquor cabinet and straight toward the bedroom once she entered her apartment. When the living room was dark, she assumed Tucker had already taken Noah to bed for the night, and she couldn't wait to join them. Just as she passed by the bathroom on her way to change out of her work clothes, the door swung open and she jumped back in surprise, a yelp escaping her throat. It took her mind a moment to refocus as she held a hand to her chest, fingernails leaving tiny indents of red above her shirt.

"Hey, sorry to startle you," Tucker greeted her, turning to the towel-clad toddler in his arms, "This little guy was just taking bath time like a champ. Just in time for mama."

Olivia couldn't help but soften as she watched Tucker bounce her son playfully on his hip, Noah reciprocating with a high pitched giggle. The scene was enough to bring her down from the adrenaline rush, but Tucker - ever the detective - could sense the lingering tension in her demeanor.

"You okay?" He lowered his voice so Noah couldn't detect the shift in tone, but she dismissed him out of hand.

"Yeah," she exhaled, pretending to shake off her jostled nerves like they were nothing, "Just startled me. It's good to see you."

For good measure, she sealed the facade by stepping forward to place a hand on his chest, giving each of her favorite boys a kiss on the cheek.

"Were you good for Tucker?" she addressed the smiling toddler. He beamed back at her.

"Yes good!" He squealed, reaching out for her, and she gladly took him up on the request, lifting him from Tucker's arms to cradle him against her chest. She closed her eyes as she inhaled the scent of his shampoo, and it felt like she could breathe again, if only for the moment. God, how she needed to hold him after this day.

"I'm going to put him to bed and change out of these clothes," She told Tucker, waving him off to the couch, "I'll be out in a few. Feel free to grab a drink or something."

"Take your time," he said, leaning in closer, "And hey, it's good to see you, too."

When he dipped to plant a kiss on her lips, she flinched back unexpectedly, turning her head just in time to catch the kiss on her cheek instead. Tucker faltered in surprise, pulling back immediately. When she peeked up at him, there was a hint of confusion in his eyes, but more prominently, concern. She could sense the questions on the tip of his tongue, but he took her silent cue and held back for the moment. Not now. Not in front of Noah.

She emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later, much more comfortable, physically, after a shower and a change of clothes. But mentally? The change had no bearing on the layer of filth she felt crawling over her skin. Tucker was waiting for her on the couch, an arm slung over the back in silent invitation to fill the space beside him. She happily obliged, curling her legs under her as she sank into the nook his body created. A deep breath filled her lungs with warm familiarity - old spice and peppermint aftershave. Usually, the charming concoction included the subtle tinge of bourbon from his lips, the absence of which did not escape her tonight. He hadn't made a big show of it, but she couldn't help but notice the gradual weaning of his evening drinks ever since he made that comment to her about slowing down. Silent solidarity.

Olivia leaned into his side, grateful for the warmth his presence provided after the long day.

"Thanks for watching Noah on such short notice," she said, settling her head on his shoulder, "Lucy had a date scheduled for tonight, and the poor kid rarely gets a night out with my crazy schedule."

"Of course," he gave her a squeeze, rubbing a hand up and down her arm, "You know you don't have to thank me for that."

"Yeah, I know," she shrugged, "It was just a huge relief to me. And it's nice having you to come home to."

Tucker saw the opening and took it, gently prodding the conversation toward his earlier suspicions.

"Yeah? Rough day?" He tried and failed to sound casual.

"Ha," she snorted, then paused, her mood growing palpably more serious, "I guess you could say that..."

" _Gary just… would make me go down on him." "He'd make a stop in the chapel." "There are no cameras there." "Every female inmate knows the COs run that place…"_

The haunting words from the victim's initial statement rattled off in her head, echoing off the chambers of her mind. That was when she had begun to fall, conjuring imagery she had finally tucked away after all these years. As the day went on and the case revealed more and more similarities to her own dance with the devil, she watched helplessly as the thread of her composure slowly unraveled, and she couldn't do a thing to stop it. Out of Tucker's view, Olivia squeezed her eyes shut.

"You can talk about it if you want," he made his offer as gentle as possible, and it didn't go unnoticed. She loved that about him. He knew when to push and when to fall back. No pressure, no demands - just an open invitation. Olivia weighed her options. She could just as easily tell him she was fine. That it was nothing. She could put on her Emmy award winning smile, seal it with a kiss of sarcasm, and change the tides of the conversation like an effortless dance she's performed a million times. It would be simple to avoid his concern and tell him that it was just another case file, another day on the job, even though it was so much more than that.

But avoiding it felt too much like falling into an old habit, one that consumed so much of her life before. A vicious cycle, plagued with memories of bitterness and strain. And she was finally at a place in her life where she felt like expelling the darkness didn't seem so scary. Edward Tucker came into her life as one would happen upon a freshwater spring in a drought. The discovery was beautiful and uncharted, the water spotless and clean, and the mossy green that curtained around them was so beautiful it made the rest of the world outside its barrier seem small.

But that was exactly it. The spring was beautiful, and her feet were stained with the soil of the paths she walked before. Immersing herself in the enticing heat meant risking contamination. Spreading her darkness through the water and ruining it when she's only just begun to enjoy the view. She knew all too well what happened when she let the demons infiltrate her relationships, and she was terrified of letting that happen to them. Tucker was the first man in a very long time that Olivia could see a real future with; the first man in a long time whose future she genuinely wanted to be a part of. So as welcome as he made her feel, her fear was an equal and opposite reaction. Benson's Third Law. She would never forgive herself if she messed this thing up.

"Maybe later," she decided, settling for the simplest answer to get her off the hook, "I'm just really tired."

"Okay," he replied evenly, no questions asked, "Just let me know when you want me to get out of your hair."

Her stomach twisted at the thought of him leaving her right now.

"Actually," she cleared her throat, "Um, do you think… would you like to spend the night?"

"Yeah?" He looked down at her. It was nothing unusual to have him stay overnight every once in awhile, especially recently, when they found it impossible to tear themselves away from each other at the end of the evening. But he was always sure to seek her entire approval on the matter, never wanting to overstep.

"Yeah," she replied, nuzzling further into his shirt as a sly attempt to hide her face.

"Sure, babe," he complied and she let out a breath of relief, "I'm happy to stay right where I am."

* * *

She knew it would happen one day.

She dreaded it, but she knew it was inevitable if she planned on keeping Tucker around for a while - and she did - that he would witness one of her nightmare episodes. Even though they had slowed down significantly since her last encounter with Lewis, they still made appearances in her life every so often. Grudgingly, she knew they always would. It was a part of her life now, and one she had mostly grown to accept. What she didn't plan for was taking on a case so eerily parallel to a chapter of her life she would rather forget, and throwing her back into a different circle of hell. And all the mental preparation in the world couldn't have readied her when the time finally came.

She saw his face again that night: Lowell Harris. For the first time in years, excluding the instances that arose in the aftermath of Lewis, Olivia found herself on the floor of a musty, concrete hell. Handcuffs securely fastened, back against the door, just like always. She was alone in the dark room whose walls stretched out in every direction until they faded to black, but in the distance she heard the clanging of chain link and she knew. She knew. Tears pricked at her eyes as the panic set in, hands yanking futilely at cold metal. The sound was moving closer and closer, and she could make out the heavy footfalls alongside the haunting clatter. Her restraints wouldn't budge. She was stuck. He was coming for her, and all she could do was wait. When a looming silhouette emerged from the darkness before her, she couldn't bring herself to look up. She couldn't look him in the eye knowing what was about to happen, but he was right in front of her then, his large work issue boots planted firmly on the concrete. When she heard the rustling of a zipper, she started to cry harder, squeezing her eyes and mouth shut with everything she had, but she froze when she heard the man utter a familiar phrase.

" _Bite me and you're dead."_

Her head snapped up at the unexpected voice, shocked to find herself staring into the cold eyes of Gary Munson. Her heart jumped inside her chest, whether from relief or fear she wasn't sure, but before she had time to process the shock she felt movement on her back and realized she was no longer sitting pressed against a thick metal door, but was instead on her feet backed against another body. A man's body. Two strong arms wrapped around her from behind, effectively trapping her between the two men, and then his mouth was on her ear and the blood drained from her face. The arms jerked her in a one-eighty, forcing her to level with the man whose face she would never forget. In an instant, all her will to fight relinquished as his haunting stare froze over her veins.

" _Surprise."_

"Olivia!"

The first thing she registered when she came to was hands on her wrists, holding them firmly in front of her chest, and the sensation of restraint only triggered more panic. She yanked at the hold, once, twice, and she could feel her sobs growing heavier as the grip didn't budge. She was trapped. A scream built in her throat, ready to rip free when a voice broke through her wall of terror.

"Olivia. Olivia, please, open your eyes."

Though the voice was a familiar one, there was an element of strangeness to it. A tone she never heard before in the usually solid inflection. Something like panic. Uncertainty. It was enough to snap her into focus, her eyes springing open to find her stunned boyfriend staring back at her. The world skidded to an abrupt stop, the tornado of chaos slamming on its breaks to leave her disoriented as she plummeted back to reality. She sucked in a gasp, trying fruitlessly to catch her breath. Then another. It was the two of them then, faces inches apart and all ragged breathing and frightened eyes, both desperate for the other to give them some sort of direction. Slowly, Tucker uncurled his fingers from her wrists as he realized she was no longer a danger to herself, and she retreated her shaky hands to rake the damp hair from her face.

"Hey, it's alright," he was the first to speak, his whisper laden with fear, "I'm right here."

"D-Did I wake Noah?" Olivia stammered, eyes darting in the direction of the hallway, "Did I scare him? Is he okay?"

Tucker was quick to reassure her, gently gesturing her to the baby monitor on the nightstand.

"He's fine. See? Hasn't made a sound, I promise."

Olivia stared at the monitor for a long time, letting her heart rate settle as she watched the peaceful rise and fall of her son's chest on the screen. It brought her relief. The only thing more traumatizing than having these episodes in the first place was when they woke up Noah.

She was unaware of how long she'd been staring at the screen, but it was Tucker's voice that finally called her back to focus.

"Are, uh…" He swallowed hard, "Are you okay?"

She could practically hear his pulse pounding from where she sat, and somewhere below her fog of adrenaline, her heart swelled for him. She managed a feeble nod.

"What do you need me to do?" He asked, his voice low and brimming with desperation "Anything. Just tell me."

She thought about it.

"I just… need a minute."

"Okay," he immediately pulled back, standing from the bed, "I'll be right out-"

"No, don't," she stopped him, catching his hand at the last second. He turned back to her, his gaze falling on their clasped hands before looking back into her eyes. "You don't… have to go. Just sit with me?"

He visibly deflated at the invitation.

"Of course."

A few minutes passed in comfortable silence before he sensed movement out of the corner of his eye. To his left he found her hand extended on the mattress between them, palm up. An invitation he wouldn't pass up for the world. Immediately, he reciprocated the gesture, lacing his fingers through hers, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. Grateful for any opportunity to bring her comfort. Tucker watched as she let her eyes fall shut and tilted her head back against the headboard, taking a series of even breaths almost as if on count. A precise cadence. He knew then, much to his dismay, that this was routine for her. A song and dance she knew by heart. He held her hand tighter.

"I'm sorry."

Her apology was so soft Tucker almost thought he imagined it. Surely she wasn't apologizing for this. When he turned in her direction, he found silent tears in her eyes, waiting for release.

"Sorry?" He echoed, brows furrowing, "No, Olivia. You don't have anything to be sorry for. Please."

She didn't respond but seemed to lose herself inside her head, vacant eyes settling somewhere in the distance. Tucker watched carefully from beside her, grasping in the dark for the right thing to do, to say. For someone who made a living calling the shots and making tough calls, he had no idea how to proceed. All his badges and authority couldn't help him now as he sat across the bed from his best friend, desperate to help her any way he can and coming up empty handed. Helpless.

"Liv?"

"Our case today," she began suddenly, her small voice breaking up the quiet, "Ah… it was a corrections officer at a women's prison who's being accused of sexually assaulting the inmates."

Tucker didn't say anything, but a gnawing anxiety climbed through his bones as he watched a single tear slide down her cheek. He wasn't sure where she was headed with this, but the tremor in her voice told him two distinct things: He didn't want to know, and he was about to find out.

"Do you remember when we talked about the Clyde Vandyne case a while back?" she kept her head forward and down as she spoke, eyes trained on her lap, "And you apologized for bringing up my PTSD in the interrogation?"

The reminder was a punch to the gut, especially in the wake of witnessing a very PTSD-like nightmare. It was his turn to drop his gaze.

"Yeah."

"And you mentioned how you still didn't know what that was from...?"

His breath hitched in his throat, the fingers of his free hand pressing into his plaid pajama pants to still their trembling. By now Olivia's lip was quivering uncontrollably, and he could tell she was on the verge of breaking. When words failed her, Tucker gave her hand a squeeze of encouragement, even though his stomach was already twisted in a knot in anticipation of whatever she was about to disclose.

"You can tell me," he nudged gently.

And that was it- she broke. Her chin hit her chest as she fell forward with sobs, unleashing the weight that had buried her all day. As much as it killed him, Tucker kept his distance from across the bed, even when every nerve in his body screamed at him to go to her, to wrap her up. All that mattered now was her well being, and it was clear she needed space. So he waited. Patiently, attentively, he stroked the back of her hand and waited for her sobbing to subside, as long as it took. When she finally managed to catch her breath, she brought her chin up and squared her shoulders, a steely resolve falling over her eyes. Like a soldier marching into battle. And with every ounce of bravery she could muster, she told him the truth. About Sealview. About the undercover operation, and how Cragen had warned her, pleaded with her not to go. She told him about the powerlessness she felt when she stripped down and put on that orange jumpsuit, how it felt like shedding her humanity like a reptilian skin. Finally, through tears, she told him about the basement. About _his_ hands on her body, his breath against her ear, and the way his words penetrated an unshakable depth of her soul. She told him about her screams for help, how they fell on deaf ears until she finally believed him - that no one was coming for her - and resigned herself to an unfathomable fate. She told him more than she'd ever told anyone, more than she'd disclosed on paperwork or to her therapist or to Fin, and when she was done, she had no more tears left to shed.

By the time she finished, the gap between them on the mattress had gradually drawn to a close, her exhausted body collapsed across his. Tucker's fingers grazed through her hair in slow, even strides, a repetitive motion that kept her at ease as much as it gave him something to focus on other than the urge to storm Rikers Island right now to find the sorry bastard who hurt her. Between her periodic sniffling, the room was dead quiet and Tucker resented the silence for giving his mind space to run free with the vivid pictures she had painted for him. He hadn't said a word since she began divulging her story, save for the tiny whispers of encouragement when her voice trailed off at the toughest parts. Which, for him, was all the parts. It was obvious it took an incredible amount of courage to vocalize the things she told him, so he felt twice as inadequate as he sat there with her, unable to find any words at all in the face of her suffering. How did he respond to something like this? How did he put his outrage into words? Tell her how ugly and unfair the world was for being cruel to someone so undeserving on so many occasions?

"Fin sees it, I think," she saved him from the silence, and he looked down at her.

"What's that?"

"The way this case is affecting me," she clarified, "He was the one to call me this morning, and I knew something was bad by the sound of his voice. When he told me, I...I just..."

"I can't imagine," he shook his head.

"I shut down," she admitted, "Fin pulled me aside after we interviewed the vic at the hospital and asked if I was okay. We haven't really talked much about, uh… about Sealview since it happened. Even then, not so much. But I can see it in his eyes, especially after cases like this… He can't forget it either."

"I'm glad you have someone at work looking out for you."

Olivia pushed herself into a sitting position, brushing back her tousled hair and settling beside him against the headboard. She drew her knees up to her chest.

"I have a good squad. I'm lucky," she smiled fondly, looking a bit like a proud mother. Then she looked to him, "I'm pretty lucky to have you, too. Takes a village, I guess."

She shot him a playful smirk, and he pulled her into his side with an arm around her shoulder, planting a soft kiss on her temple. His lips lingered there to hold the embrace for a few seconds longer, his throat growing tight with emotion. It was all he could do to hold back the burning of tears as he clenched his jaw.

"I'm so sorry that happened to you," he whispered.

Instead of responding with words that felt less than adequate for the occasion, Olivia cupped his face with her palm, running her fingers along the stubble of his jaw before planting a kiss on his cheek. It served as both a silent _thank you_ and a reminder that she was okay. She was here.

"Have you thought about recusing yourself from the case?" Tucker asked when she pulled away, careful to pose the question so that he's not trying to persuade her one way or another, or make her feel incapable of doing her job.

"Thought about it," she admitted, "Briefly. It was my first instinct, but I already know things are going to go high profile and I can't afford to raise questions with one-p-p on why the commanding officer is standing down. Besides, I never really got... Closure. You know, with Harris. So I feel like I need to do this for myself, too."

"Wait," he pulled back to look at her, eyes scanning over her face in disbelief, "Harris never got put away?"

"Not for what he did to me," she shook her head, the frustration evident in her face, her voice, even after all these years, "Or to all the other inmates. In the end, we got him on the rape that put him on our radar in the first place, something outside the prison. My undercover stint helped put the last piece of the puzzle together, so I couldn't feel like the whole operation was a complete waste, but…"

"But you never got justice."

"No," she said, "No, I didn't."

"Can I be honest with you, Liv?"

"Always," she spoke sincerely, a nod at the simple one-word promise he frequently used with her.

"I know you've…" Tucker seemed to roll the words around in his head, choosing the right ones with care, "endured a lot more than most people have in a lifetime. You've been through hell and back, and those are just the pieces I know."

"I guess I kind of come with a heavy load," she attempted to derail with humor, chuckling darkly to herself, "Lots of baggage."

"Hey, that's not what I'm saying," he stopped her, "At all. I'm just… as you can tell after tonight, I'm not experienced with this. I can talk an armed criminal out of a hostage situation, but when it comes to pulling my girlfriend out of a nightmare, I felt… completely helpless."

"You were fine," she placed her hand on his chest. He blinked down at her through eyes more vulnerable than she had ever seen on him, unconvinced.

"I promise," she emphasized, "Besides, I know it's a lot. I know _I'm_ a lot. It's not fair to expect you to know how to clean up this mess."

"That's where you're wrong," he said, then added with a chuckle, "That's probably the first and last time I'll ever say that."

She broke a genuine smile, rolling her eyes at his mischievous smirk. Tucker allowed the moment of lightness to resonate between them before speaking again.

"When I commit to something, I don't commit halfway," he said, his voice solemn with promise, "I'm all in with you, Olivia. I knew going into this that you had some demons from your past. We all do. But that was one of the many things that drew me to you - your resilience. Your strength. When I say I want you, I mean I want all of you: the cop, the mother… and the survivor."

By the time he was finished her eyes shone with fresh tears, and she was grateful she already had her head buried in his shirt.

"You and your _baggage_ are not going to scare me away. I know exactly what I signed up for, and I'm getting a hell of a deal. I want to be here for you. Every nightmare, every sleepless night..." he told her, "You're worth every single one."

And for the first time in her life, she thought she might actually believe it.


End file.
